


The Trouble in the Ballroom Affair

by girlintheglen



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:36:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29515431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheglen/pseuds/girlintheglen
Summary: A PicFic Challenge story, from Section VII on LJ.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	The Trouble in the Ballroom Affair

[](https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/glennagirl/29538170/901537/901537_original.jpg)

In a long corridor that led to a grand ballroom, Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin walked silently towards an arched doorway that shone from a solid wall of windows beyond. As they approached that light they encountered a young woman dressed in a gown that seemed to float around her body; shades of pale rose was a near match for her bare arms. Napoleon was tempted to speak to her when another woman emerged.

“Is that April?”

Both men stopped in mid step, unsure now if they had misunderstood the mission parameters. April and Mark weren’t scheduled to be part of this mission.

Having heard the approaching footsteps, April turned to see her friends and colleagues. She was in a gown made from silk, so that it rustled slightly as she walked towards them. Her auburn hair was in an updo, and as the other woman turned to watch April, Illya was struck by a similarity between them.

“Napoleon, those two are related somehow.” Napoleon wrinkled his features, wondering why Illya would say such a thing… until he looked a little more closely.

April held out her arms and greeted them. Her gown was nearly the same color as the one on the other beautiful woman.

“Illya, Napoleon…’ She gave each of them a peck on the cheek, signifying their familiarity. Then, speaking barely above a whisper, she allayed some of their curiosity.

“ _Don’t let on how we know each other, I’ll handle that._ Come along, I’ll introduce you to my cousin.”

April took a hand of each man and led them towards the woman now identified as her cousin. Curiosity was not completely satisfied, and the question of how this all figured into the mission for which they were in this place remained unanswered.

“Gentlemen, this is my cousin, Tuesday Dancer. Tuesday, this is Napoleon Solo, and this’, a subtle sigh signaled something special in April’s introduction, “…is Illya Kuryakin.”

Napoleon took Tuesday Dancer’s right hand and kissed it, his natural instincts to endear himself to women triggered by courtesy and his intense attraction to the beautiful girl.

“It is a pleasure and a surprise. April, you’ve kept a secret from me.” The smile was megawatt Solo charm, and Tuesday responded predictably with a coquettish smile and a slight blush to her cheeks and ears. Napoleon found that intoxicating, and irresistible.

Illya nearly hid the small smile that appeared as he observed his friend’s approach to April’s cousin. She was enchanting…

“I am happy to meet you. April has not spoken of you previously, but then she is very good at keeping secrets.” April could feel the unseen wink from her sometimes lover. If people knew what had [transpired between her and Illya](https://archiveofourown.org/series/762639)… she didn’t want to think about it right now.

April took her cousin’s hand now and began walking towards the entry to the ballroom. Was there a reason for her being here beyond the relationship she held to Tuesday? She would need to fill in her colleagues as soon as possible.

The room was opulent, and the fragrance of gardenias and roses filled the senses. It was an incredibly glamorous affair to which the UNCLE agents were assigned. The big question was why April was in attendance. What did Tuesday Dancer have to do with any of this? Napoleon and Illya both had questions, and the opportunity to get some answers from April couldn’t come soon enough.

As the agents were led into the ballroom, the initial impression of fragrance and light gave way to the realization that there were two more young women, also in gowns of the same pale blush, each one different from the others. April and her cousin took their places next to the two who appeared to be waiting for their arrival. Illya saw a pair of floral arrangements on each side of what now appeared to be a focal point in the room, and as he considered the possible scenarios, a man carrying camera equipment entered the room.

“Napoleon, I believe we’re here for a wedding. The bridesmaids are all here, there’s the photographer.” Napoleon took in the scene, considered what his partner was saying and then snapped his fingers; his memory connected with their mission.

“It’s a wedding all right, and the groom is none other than the man we’re here to stop. Waverly said in our briefing that we’d encounter a slight bit of difficulty, I suppose this is what he meant by that.”

Illya was scanning the room for any sign of THRUSH, any clue to where they should be looking. The mission was straightforward, stop the detonation of a bomb in this building; an invisibility bomb.

April was talking to the other women while her cousin Tuesday was fussing with her dress. Napoleon caught his agent’s attention and motioned for her to come and fill him and Illya in on the situation. The biggest puzzle in the room thus far was how it happened that April and Tuesday were here at the wedding of a THRUSH scientist.

April excused herself from the photo shoot. The photographer was taking a long time to get the light reading on his _Haselblad 500C,_ a favorite of professional photographers, and the official camera of the Mercury Space Missions. Illya admired it from a distance as April tried to explain the situation.

“As you might have guessed, there’s going to be a wedding. I had no idea at first who was involved, but when Tuesday asked me to be a bridesmaid and told me who she was marrying…’’ Napoleon stopped her.

“Tuesday is the bride? Where’s the white dress? And how did she meet Wynan Duvall?”

“Just let me tell you darling. I’m getting to all of that.” She laughed as though listening to a funny story. It wouldn’t do for any suspicion to arise about her knowing these men. She’d managed to convince Tuesday to include them on the guest list with a story about wanting to impress a couple of clients.

“So, what does Tuesday think you do for a living? And what sort of business do we have?” Napoleon wondered why their boss hadn’t given them more information; why were he and Illya being ambushed by this scenario?

“Darling, I only just found out, and didn’t have enough intel on the situation to set it up properly. All I do know is that Wynan Duvall seems to be THRUSH, and the name connected to this Invisibility Bomb that R&D has been following.” She looked at Illya with that comment, expecting him to be better informed than his partner.

“Oh… well, yes. I am familiar with it, but just a little. I’m not on that particular bit of research, and to be honest, I haven’t considered it to be a real threat. I mean, invisibility… It’s a stretch of the imagination, don’t you think?”

Napoleon sighed; this was very irregular. And he was with Illya, because invisibility seemed ridiculous. Then again, they were talking about THRUSH.

“Tuesday is my cousin and we’ve always been close. It’s hard to not commiserate with someone whose parents shared the idea of naming their children after the calendar.” She winked at that, her mother and aunt had possessed similar ideas about fun names for their children.

“Okay, so where is Wynan now? And, more importantly, where in the mansion is the, ummm… _Invisibility Bomb_?” Napoleon didn’t think they should wait too long, not if the projections were that the bomb would go off today. And, what exactly did he expect to become invisible? He hated THRUSH scientists, they were a nuisance to him on a personal level.

Tuesday called out to April to come and join the ladies for their portrait. The photographer was ready for them, and the light wouldn’t wait any longer.

“Gotta go, boss. She kissed Napoleon on the cheek, winking at Illya as he watched her toss him a kiss. When she found her place in the group, the photographer began his work, catching a series of shots that appeared to be candid as the bride and her entourage laughed and hugged each other before assembling once more into the more formal pose expected of a wedding party.

“They are all quite beautiful, are they not?” Illya couldn’t help but notice how his friend seemed to follow Tuesday in particular. He knew what was going through his mind; the girl was in for a lot of heartache by being involved with this Duvall character.

A the photographer began to pack up his equipment, the ladies all hurried out of the room. It was time to go back to the Bride’s Room, that special spot where they could fix their make-up, adjust anything that needed adjusting, and wait for the signal that it was time for the bridal procession.

“Illya, tell me what you know about this invisibility thing. How is it even possible? And why…’ Napoleon stopped talking as his friend’s raised eyebrow seemed to say _slow down_.

“Sorry, just… just tell me what you know.” Illya sighed at his lack of knowledge on this topic.

“What I do know is that the probability of this working is, at best, unlikely. But, there is some history of research by way of quantum mechanics, that renders the hypothesis of displacement of …’ Napoleon’s expression was saying something now.

“Right, to the point I shall proceed. It’s all theory, but it’s not impossible within the realm of quantum theories for something to disappear, and then reappear. That’s all I have, and that’s all that our own R&D has on it. To expect that THRUSH has somehow broken that barrier and can now actually make things, or people, become invisible… highly unlikely.”

Napoleon’s mouth formed a scowling shape

“You keep saying highly unlikely. That means, maybe yes and maybe no? We need to find that bomb, or whatever it is, and make sure it doesn’t go off here today. We have a room full of people, not to mention April and Tuesday… and us.”

In the Bride’s Room, the bride and her friends were putting final touches to their make-up and hair, thanks to several stylists who were on hand to ensure that everyone looked perfect. Tuesday hadn’t spoken to her fiancé for two days, and she felt slightly uneasy at the lack of communication. She had entertained the thought of calling it off completely, if not for the insanely beautiful arrangement of roses and gardenias that had been delivered the day before, with a note from Wynan that vowed his undying love and devotion to her. And so, here she was getting ready to marry a man she hardly knew and yet loved with an intensity she had never experienced before. He was kind, brilliant… handsome. So many things about him had drawn her to him, and he loved her. What more could a girl want?

Napoleon and Illya sat at the back of the ballroom, a plan still forming between them. Soon there would be people entering the ballroom, the women on the arms of the groomsmen as seating proceeded according to the relationships each person had to either the bride or the groom.

Their thoughts were on the possibilities of locations where Wynan might have placed his Invisibility Bomb. Just the name was like something out of a comic book. Perhaps that was his inspiration. Perhaps it was simply that, a comic book fantasy.

The elegant building where a wedding was taking place had a history worthy of a great romance. It was once the home of a little known industrialist named Vincent VanMeter, a man whose regard for love once fueled his enterprise here in the Hudson Valley. Like many of the old homes, his reflected an era in which elegance and refinement were greatly admired, and his pedigree made him one of the few whose names held a place in history as well as modern titans of industry.

Once, many years ago, he had built this house for the woman he loved. Tatiana VanMeter had no history of her own, and was neither from a rich family nor even a respected one. Vincent had met her when she came to work for his mother, a lady’s maid during a period of time when that suggested its own particular status among the working class of the day. There’s was a _love at first sight_ , something that nearly lost Vincent his inheritance, had not his mother died suddenly without having opportunity to change her will. Although some were suspicious, nothing was ever proved, and the couple were married soon afterwards.

The house was itself a labor of love, built to symbolize the great love that Vincent and Tatiana shared. His former family home was sold to help pay for his monument to love, and he continued to run the business his father had built and entrusted to the son.

The house was named _Maison D’amour_ in honor of his Mother’s French lineage, and for the couple whose lives inspired it. Sadly, after only five years of marriage, Tatiana was stricken down with tuberculosis and died. Vincent was inconsolable; he took his own life in the throes of grief. They had no children, so the house remained in the care of the company that bore the family name: _VanMeter Hierarchal Enterprises_.

Illya read through the brochure that told the story of the house and its builder, blanching slightly at the implication.

“Napoleon, I believe we are in the nest of origins here.’ At his friend’s quizzical expression, Illya elaborated.

“This house was built by one of the founders of the Hierarchy. This is THRUSH property, and so is evidence that the bomb must be here somewhere on the grounds.” Napoleon shot his cuffs in response to this new bit of information. There was nothing to do about it, they had to find the bomb and stop April’s cousin from marrying into the mob, so to speak.

“Let’s get to work then.”

The wedding was slated to begin in one hour, giving Solo and Kuryakin that long to locate and disarm the _Invisibility Bomb_ before … they didn’t know what.

Wynan Duvall was a man of science, but his heart wasn’t in the research demanded by THRUSH. He wished to be out of it, fearing for his and Tuesday’s lives should his superiors even suspect that he might try to escape from their oversight. As he stood alone in the room assigned to him, his thoughts went to the _Invisibility Bomb_ , his capricious invention. Wynan hadn’t expected it to work, and when he failed to inform THRUSH that it did indeed make things invisible his life was instantly at risk. A lab assistant, loyal to the Hierarchy, observed one of Wynan’s experiments, and wasted no time reporting it to a supervisor. It was a close call, and only some fairly convincing explanations about not wanting to bother anyone with faulty results saved him from serious consequences. The sycophant who reported him did not receive the expected reward for trying to better himself at a favorite’s expense.

Now, standing here in front of a Cheval mirror, examining his appearance and his conscience, Wynan Duvall was more determined than ever to try to escape THRUSH. He loved Tuesday with all of his heart, and only hoped she could forgive him when he didn’t show up at the altar. It was for her safety as well as his that he began to formulate a plan.

Napoleon and Illya needed to take a look around the mansion, and so began the journey back down the corridor by which they had arrived in the ballroom. It was a feature lined with leaded windows that refracted light, creating a prism like effect on the walls. A few people were seated in some of the small chairs along the way, making the pair wonder if some or all of them might be THRUSH. No doubt there would be dignitaries at this posh affair, perhaps a demonstration of the device was another feature of the wedding day festivities. Perhaps it was the main event, with the wedding only a diversion to anyone observing.

At the end of the corridor, opposite the ballroom, an intersection allowed for going either to the right or the left. Illya nodded his intention to go to the right, and received a smile from Napoleon to confirm his intention to turn to the left. They would signal each other of their discoveries, should there be any.

Napoleon’s choice would take him past a library, a good spot for something like an invisibility bomb. He wasn’t sure why, but it seemed a good enough place to start the search. Entering with every sense on alert, he found no one in the room, indicating nothing was being guarded. So, probably not the right place. 

He heard someone approaching with clipped footsteps. It was a cadence made by a man, he was sure of that. He opened his cigarette case and removed one of the Lucky Brand cigarettes he’d been given by April. It was a joke, the idea of Solo’s Luck something that kept circulating around Headquarters. April didn’t approve of smoking, but she indulged him with the aptly named brand nonetheless.

As Napoleon flicked on the lighter, a man entered the library. There was nothing extraordinary about him, the cut of his suit was unremarkable.

“Join me?” Obviously this man had followed Napoleon into the room, so that was progress in his investigation.

“Say, have you seen anyone around here named Wynan? He’s my wife’s second cousin, sort of a family courtesy to be here for the wedding.” Napoleon smiled, the lie was so transparent, he wondered if it was a tactic of some sort.

“I can’t say that I have, seen this fellow that is. I don’t know the groom personally.’ Napoleon continued his preparation for lighting the cigarette.

“You didn’t answer, cigarette?” The other fellow shook his head as his eyes cut to the corner of the room beyond Napoleon’s head.

“Thank you, but I gave them up. I don’t know you, do I? And yet…’’. Napoleon recognized intention, and this fellow was contemplating something distinctly unfriendly.

“I’ll quit someday,’ Napoleon lit his cigarette, inhaled and then blew smoke right into the man’s face. It sent him into a coughing spasm, disabling him just long enough for Napoleon to unholster his Special and fire a sleep dart.

“But I don’t think it will be today.”

When Illya headed right, he was contemplating discovering something relevant to the mission. What he encountered was the groom, Wynan Duvall, attempting to get out of the mansion, and perhaps his wedding. Unfortunately for Wynan, he had been caught by a THRUSH soldier, and was now being escorted back to the room he had just left. Illya watched as he followed them at a safe distance.

The man with Wynan opened the door and shoved him roughly into the room. Before he could enter, Illya was on him, knocking him out with a wicked right hook. Catching the fellow before he hit the floor, the Russian pushed him into the room and shut the door behind them.

Wynan didn’t know if he was now facing someone worse, or a good Samaritan. Illya shook off the violence and faced Duvall. So this was the man Tuesday Dancer intended to marry.

“Who are you?” Illya’s deadpan expression did not instill optimism.

“Are you Wynan Duvall?”

“Yes… Are you from Central? I’m sure this is all a big mistake, I wasn’t trying to leave.” Kuryakin’s expression didn’t change, and now it had a menacing effect on the hapless groom.

“Where is the Invisibility Bomb?” Illya noted the color drain from Wynan’s face, the sudden appearance of beads of sweat on his forehead.

“I…I…You see…” Illya didn’t see. But he still hadn’t identified himself, so allowed Wynan to believe the worst.

“No, I do not see. I ask again, where is the bomb?” The look on Duvall’s face was reaching terror. What was he hiding?

Napoleon did a quick search of his victim’s pockets. He found nothing to identify the man as THRUSH, but instead there was a card with something written on it.

“Lucky’s camera…’

While the bride and her friends waited in the Bride’s Room, Tuesday was anxious about not hearing from Wynan. She did love him, but he was not a hero. If things got too rough, Tuesday had no doubt that he would fold. THRUSH had made an incredible offer for his research, and if it was successful then their fortunes were guaranteed. She just hoped that April didn’t get mixed up in any of it; she’d never forgive herself if her cousin got hurt.

Napoleon was still contemplating the identity of the man he’d darted when his communicator warbled its distinctive sound.

“Solo… Hey Illya. I have someone here.”

“Yes, as do I. Where are you?” He wanted to remove Wynan from this room they were in. Just about anywhere else would be safer.

“The library, a few doors up from where we parted ways. I’m beginning to think this affair has more to it than just the so-called _Invisibility Bomb_.”

“I quite agree my friend. I’ll be there shortly.”

April Dancer was a seasoned enough agent to recognize the strange buzz that happened when things were _off_. And to her spy sense, things were definitely off.

First of all, her cousin seemed on edge. No one had seen or heard from Wynan for days, and April was beginning to suspect that perhaps he was involved with this whole invisibility thing somehow. She wasn’t supposed to be here as an UNCLE agent, she was a bridesmaid. She and Tuesday had grown up together, and they had a good relationship, both as relatives and friends. Now, as April observed Tuesday, she recognized the emotional strain of someone under pressure.

“Tuesday, would you tell me if something were wrong? April decided to confront her cousin, the _not knowing_ was making her uneasy.

Illya escorted Wynan safely to the library where Napoleon was. The man he’d darted was on the leather sofa, no longer a threat as he slept off the effects.

“Napoleon, this is our groom, Wynan Duvall. I found him attempting to leave the mansion. The groom was planning on leaving Tuesday at the altar, alone.” Wynan blanched at the truth of what Kuryakin was saying. He was a coward, and he didn’t deserve Tuesday.

“Tsk tsk Mister Duvall. Tuesday is such a sweet young woman, so trusting… Tell me, are you running from THRUSH?” Now Wynan was scared all over again.

“Who are you guys? Are you after the _Invisibility Bomb_ too? It’s a hoax, it doesn’t work, okay. And THRUSH expects it to work.’ Wynan looked near to tears as he unloaded his secret.

“I’m afraid for my life, and for Tuesday’s life. She’s better off without me, I could get her killed.”

Napoleon and Illya had the same reaction to what Wynan was saying. They believed him, and they were relieved to know the bomb was, well… a _bomb_ _without a boom_. No amount of science was going to create invisibility.

As for getting Wynan and Tuesday safely out of the mansion and away from THRUSH, Napoleon had an idea.

After checking in with Mister Waverly, Napoleon had a more complete understanding of what they were doing, and who else was involved.

“That guy,’ Napoleon nodded in the direction of the unconscious man on the sofa, “… is Interpol. He’s after a THRUSH chief who’s scheduled to be here today. He thought going after Wynan would give him access to Brother Luck, his actual target.”

That was too rich to ignore.

“His name is Brother Luck? You must be joking.” Illya couldn’t even laugh at the absurdity of such a name. Napoleon smiled, nodding his head at the question.

“Scout’s honor, that’s what Waverly told me. This Luck fella is not only THRUSH, he’s wanted for murder and embezzlement in the UK, and conspiracy to defraud the government in France and Germany. Interpol has been after him for a while. Someone tipped them off that he would be attending the wedding.”

Both agents looked at Wynan, whose expression still reflected a degree of fear, and no recognition of the name Brother Luck.

“I … I don’t know the guy. If he’s here, it isn’t because he was invited.’ Wynan took a deep breath as his heart pounded beneath the black tuxedo he was wearing.

“Look guys, I admit that I tried to make this invisible concept work, and that I took THRUSH money to do it. But it’s a failure, and I thought I could just get married, and we could leave this all behind us. Then they started checking up on me, and I had to give them a story… a lie. But I didn’t think they’d try to kill me.” His words trailed off, his hands falling to his side as though in surrender to whatever fate awaited him.

Napoleon considered the options, and for now his priority was getting April and Tuesday out of the mansion to safety. This was not a standard mission scenario. They weren’t battling THRUSH, they were on a rescue mission.

“That’s what this is…’ Napoleon said it aloud as he re-evaluated the strategies necessary to leave this place and not be involved in any violence.

“Look, we aren’t here to confront THRUSH anymore, we’re here to rescue the bride and groom from an untenable situation. Wynan didn’t know what he was getting into, or with whom. I’m sure the promise of monetary reward was tempting, but now that’s over. We need to get the girls and get out of here. Alive.”

Illya agreed, he had no desire to get into a firefight with THRUSH. For once, they had no dispute to solve.

“We need to find the girls. Wynan, do you know where they are?” Illya gave the man a glare that withered any temptation to not cooperate.

“Yeah, umm… the Bride’s Room, it’s upstairs, in one of the bedrooms. I’ll show you.” With that, the three men left the library and the still unconscious Interpol agent, in search of April and Tuesday.

April had confronted Tuesday, and now it was all streaming out of her mouth. The _Invisibility Bomb_ , the lies and the failures. She had wanted the money for their future, but now she was just scared. In the past hour she had gone from thinking they might get away with it to just wanting to get away. She didn’t care about an expensive wedding, or a big show. Her parents were both gone, victims of a skiing accident several years earlier. She had no brothers or sisters, just April and her family. They weren’t even going to be here today, the arrangements had been made by the THRUSH group, and most of the guest list were people she didn’t know.

“Tuesday, I can help you get away from here. The two men you met, they…us, all of us… we’re enforcement agents for the U.N.C.L.E. Do you recognize that?” Tuesday nodded her head, she’d heard of something like it, a law enforcement branch of… she didn’t know.

“They’re on their way up here, and we’re going to get you and Wynan back to a safe place. Okay?” At the mention of her fiancé, Tuesday lit up. She’d been afraid that he was already gone, had abandoned her on their wedding day.

“He’s safe? Oh my god, I was so afraid.” With that Tuesday burst into tears.

Just then, the door opened and Napoleon, Illya and Wynan Duvall entered the room. Running to her, Wynan embraced his bride to be, the rustle of her dress like a preamble to their eventual redemption from the mess they were in.

“Is there anyone else here?” Illya didn’t see the other women, and he wondered that they weren’t here with the bride.

April shook her head. “They went to check out the ballroom. I sort of figured you guys were on your way here. Tuesday has filled me in on the, umm, situation.”

“Good girl…’ Napoleon winked at April. Her instincts were spot on. Obviously, she had sent the others away in case there were problems.

“So, shall we blow this joint boys and girls?” Illya gave a nod to his partner’s question. But like the proverbial pin that bursts one’s bubble…

“I don’t think so. You chaps need to drop your weapons and you…’ the photographer pointed his gun at Wynan…

“…You need to give me your little gadget, your Invisibility Bomb.”

_Just when you think it’s about over…_ Napoleon tossed his gun onto the bed, Illya simply dropped his at his feet.

“So, you must be Brother Luck. Nice touch, coming to the wedding as a photographer.” Napoleon wasn’t surprised, he’d connected the account from Alexander Waverly with the note in the Interpol agent’s pocket.

Luck just grinned, the arrogant expression of someone who thinks he controls a situation completely.

“Yes, well you chaps did a fine job locating the missing groom. Thanks for that. Now, unfortunately for all of you, I need that invisibility thing and a clear exit. THRUSH is no longer my priority, I’ve _branched out_ a bit.”

April had the advantage; she didn’t think that this guy knew she was an UNCLE agent. Never without a weapon, had sat down on the bed in a huff of exasperation. Feigning a need to bend over and keep from hyper-ventilating, she reached beneath the skirt of her dress to retrieve a small handgun. Before she could spring into action, the door burst open and the Interpol agent that Napoleon had darted earlier, came barreling into the room, tackling Luck.

Napoleon grabbed his gun off of the bed as Illya retrieved his from the floor. Each of them grabbed at the wedding couple while April drew her weapon and fell in behind the other four. Outside in the hall, Napoleon barked out orders to get out of the mansion and call for help. He then went back into the room just as a shot rang out.

“Oh my god! What’s happening?” Tuesday was hysterical, and Wynan nearly so. April looked to Illya for direction.

“Go! Get them to safety and call for help.” Illya followed his partner into the room they’d only just exited as April herded her cousin and Wynan towards a stairwell that she knew would take them to the kitchen. God bless the architects who provided servant’s passages that kept them hidden from view.

All of this had taken mere seconds, and now Napoleon and Illya stood looking at the aftermath of the shooting. Brother Luck lay on the floor, blood pouring out of a wound that probably wouldn’t kill him. The Interpol agent stood over his prey, gun in hand.

“Uh, this fellow is a wanted felon. I am an Interpol agent, Hector Sebollero Ramirez. What the heck did you shoot me with anyway?” He was looking at Napoleon, who was just a little bit grateful that the dart had worn off when it did.

“Napoleon Solo, and this is Illya Kuryakin. We’re with UNCLE. Our boss told us about Brother Luck, and you. Sorry about that sleep dart.” Napoleon held out his hand in anticipation of a handshake.

“Yeah, well… Okay.” Handshakes all around, congratulation on getting their jobs done…

“We still have some people to get to safety. I suppose you have your people…?” Napoleon hoped there were others from Interpol, there was a room full of THRUSH downstairs in the ballroom. In fact, they had probably heard the shot that Ramirez fired.

“Yes, I have back up. As do you I suppose.” Both men nodded in reply.

The final headcount of THRUSH in the house warranted a sense of victory for the UNCLE agents. Although they had determined that theirs was ultimately a rescue mission, the apprehension of so many high- ranking THRUSH was a coup of sorts. UNCLE would share credit with Interpol, and the world would be slightly more safe than it had been a few hours earlier.

Wynan and Tuesday still had wanted to get married, although the day’s festivities were definitely cancelled. It was decided that a few more days, or weeks or even months, might benefit their long-term plans. Something along the lines of new identities and relocation seemed like a good idea for the couple, considering who might be looking for Wynan after the _Invisibility Bomb_ debacle.

Alexander Waverly was able to find a suitable research job for Wynan. He would be able to continue his research and live a peaceful life while working for the KLAE Corporation. Perhaps someday he might actually find a solution to his quest for invisibility. One never knew the eventualities of life.

April and Tuesday had a tearful farewell. They’d been friends as well as cousins, and now their reunions would be covert, if at all. 

Illya and Napoleon met with Mister Waverly for a final review of the mission.

“Gentlemen, against all odds, you have emerged victorious in this mangled affair. THRUSH has suffered a loss of high ranking personnel, a lovely young couple should live a virtual happy ever after in their new home, and you two are on a flight to Barbados to track down another THRUSH scientist whose invention is a threat to the entire world. You have your files and your airline tickets. Good travels and good luck. That is all.’’

As the partners left Waverly’s office, they walked in silence to the elevator. Once inside…

“Barbados… It could be worse. I mean, the weather is good at least.” Napoleon was trying to be optimistic. Illya merely leaned against the wall of the elevator car and sighed.

“Do you think we will have time for the beach? I would enjoy that. And, a little rum. What do you think Napoleon? A little rum, some girls in bikinis… I can take another THRUSH scientist if we have those other things.” Illya sounded wistful, he must be very tired to try and cheer up his partner in this way.

Napoleon thought about it. Yes, he did like rum, and beaches and girls in bikinis. Make no mistake though, he hated THRUSH scientists.

Still, girls and beaches and rum…

Oh My!


End file.
